


the catapult to storm the gates

by anguishmacgyver



Category: MacGyver (TV 2016)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Magic, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Magic, Magic!Mac, Symbiotic Magic, Whump
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-03
Updated: 2020-11-03
Packaged: 2021-03-08 17:04:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,635
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27350128
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anguishmacgyver/pseuds/anguishmacgyver
Summary: Mac tries to save the world and hurts himself in the process. There is magic, and there are feelings, to make up for the absolute lack of plot.
Comments: 29
Kudos: 52





	the catapult to storm the gates

**Author's Note:**

> •This is shameless hurt/comfort in a magical setting.  
> •I don't know what I'm doing.  
> •Enjoy nonetheless!

“Mac, buddy, please. _Please_ don’t do this”. The despair in Jack’s voice is a tangible thing.

He gives another frantic tug at his restraints, but it’s useless. If Mac wants you in place, that’s where you stay.

An enchanted paperclip, transformed into a very real, _very_ constricting set of handcuffs stands between stopping Mac from indulging, yet again, in a self–sacrificing act.

Mac looks up from the device he is assembling, using half magic, half pure improvising genius. He is unsettingly calm, almost detached, when he answers. Resigned.

“It’s the only way to stop him. We’ve been over this.” Mac’s eyes flash bright gold once more before falling back to the device. “Besides, I’ve been through this before. Sort of.”

His hands pause mid–movement. Mac has been avoiding thinking about the time Murdoc kept him imprisoned, repeatedly trying - and failing - to relieve him of his power. However, more often that he felt comfortable with, the memories came rushing back, stealing his breath.

And it’s just Mac’s luck he will now intentionally do to himself what Murdoc failed to do.

Terror flushes over him and he has the outrageous urge to sabotage the device.

But he doesn’t have the luxury to spiral into panic or lose his resolve right now. Avoiding Jack’s eyes, he resumes, a stream of steady, warm magic flowing from his fingers to the device.

The problem with all this mess is that Mac is absolutely right: there is no other way to stop Murdoc than to strip him off his magic. In order to do that, they need a separating device, like the one Mac is now putting together.

Once ready and activated, it will force the magic out of any Host in proximity.

But Mac’s situation is, of course, a bit more complicated. He is not merely a Host, but rather a Source of magic, which is what makes him so valuable to Host sorcerers with finite magic, like Murdoc.

Murdoc will lose his powers, the separator instantly emptying his reserves, and this will give Jack a small window of opportunity to incapacitate him.

But for Mac it will be an entirely different experience - the device will work overtime to deplete him, and the magic source will keep replenishing Mac’s body with fresh, hot waves of power. A twisted variation of tug-of-war will leave him with the sensation of being continuously gutted. That’s… the theory.

This will be bad, but only if he is lucky enough to survive the pain - a detail he conveniently “forgets” to mention to Jack.

The device hums and glows in Mac’s hands. “Okay… Okay. We are go. When Murdoc goes through the door, I’ll activate the separator, your handcuffs will come off, and you must go straight at him. We can’t let him go. We only have this shot.” Mac is damned if this works, damned if it doesn’t. He fights to keep his hands steady.

Jack nods. For once, words have failed him. He wants to ask Mac if he will survive this, but he is unsure whether he wants to know the answer.

Riley’s voice crackles through the comms. “His tracker pings his location right outside the building. He should be there in seconds.” She doesn’t even try to conceal her worry.

Mac looks up at Jack for the last time. With a determined nod, he places the device on the ground and gently taps on it to activate it.

Without missing a beat, the steady, familiar presence of magic rebels against the device’s violation, clawing against Mac, like it knows it’s him who did this. It thrashes and kicks inside him, with a dark fury that strikes a cold fear in his heart.

His own power has turned against him, and it’s not going to stop. The overwhelming agony is all he’s got now.

\--------------------------------------------------------------------

Jack has the last-minute sense to look away when Mac activates the device. His entire body is in fight mode, his gun drawn, and it takes every ounce of willpower to tune out Mac's hoarse scream of pain when the device kicks into gear. He shuts his eyes, hard, and whispers, to himself more than anything, "Hang on, kid".

He has a mission. And he can't help Mac unless he completes it. Praying this stays brief, Jack braces himself.

As Mac is squirming in agony, Murdoc enters the room, hands raised as if in surrender, but it would take a fool to mistake it as such. He is preparing to cast his signature spell, commanding a strong gust of wind to fall on his adversary, barely enough to stun, but enough to allow room to perform his checkmate move.

And Jack learnt the hard way that broken bones were Murdoc's personal favorite.

The device gives a loud whine and Jack takes a moment to revel in Murdoc's confusion-turning-into-fearful-realization, before shooting him on the knees - twice. Yeah, sorcerers heal faster, but this will hurt like a mother, and Jack can't bring himself to feel even remotely sorry for the bastard. Hell hath no fury like Jack Dalton when you hurt his family.

Jack will think later that this is the closest he's ever come to reenacting that Raiders of the Lost Ark scene, _literally_ shooting down Murdoc's gaudy attempt at spellcasting. But for now, there are more pressing issues at hand. 

He pulls out the magic dampening cuffs and with a swift move puts them around Murdoc's wrists. "Oh, is daddy mad–" is all the asshole manages before Jack throws a calculated punch, knocking him out cold. If breaking bones is out of the question, Murdoc's next weapon of choice is taunting, and with Mac's predicament, it would only get worse. 

In time with the blow, the separator flickers and stills. 

Mac is at the other side of the room, curled in on himself and facing the wall. He is visibly shaking and his screaming has been reduced to a series of broken whimpers.

Jack goes up to him and kneels with the intention to soothe, to pick up the shattered pieces.

The second his hand connects with Mac's shoulder, a deep, grating voice is ripped out of Mac, _"Don't"_ , and Mac flinches away, turning to face him. His back collides with the wall.

His eyes are open, but they're glazed, unseeing. He is drenched in his own sweat, and his breaths come in sharp, shallow gasps. Terror is sculpted deep in the lines of his face.

"Mac, what-"

"It's-", he swallows hard between the sobs, "it's, _FUCK_ , that hurts-". Tears run freely down his face. 

"It knows I did this... and- and it's punishing me for it-AGH!". Hands clenched to fists shoot up to his chest. A futile attempt to protect himself from another surge of pain. 

The device no longer tugs on Mac's power, but the kid is not out of the woods yet. "How can I help?", Jack asks, and the helplessness is enough to make him choke on the words. What is there to do, really? There are no goons to protect his kid from. 

Mac looks up, and the barest hint of clarity has returned in his eyes. "Stay. Until it stops." He takes a stuttering breath. _"Please."_

The urgency in Mac's words is enough to stop Jack in his tracks. So many people have left Mac behind, that when he met someone who didn't, the kid couldn't bring himself to believe it. "Of course I'll stay, hoss. I'll always stay."

Mac looks back at him in disbelief. "Even after I cuffed you? It was a bit shitty of me." Suddenly his face blanches and he hums. Uh-oh. Jack knows this is the telltale that Mac is going to be sick and all he can do is wince in sympathy. He doesn't dare touch him.

"Mmm'okay. I'm okay. This one was bad." He rests his forehead on the cool floor, to ride out the nausea. "It's um. The magic, it's saying that I shouldn't have cuffed you, should have let you do your job."

"Damn right. Fist bump your, uh, magic for me." Jack does his best to understand the concept of this sentient type of magic. If said magic was a person, it would be missing its two front teeth for putting Mac through hell. Sadly, it's not, and it's also an integral part of Mac; and right now, it needs to be appeased. Mac won't survive another lashing out.

Jack looks back at Murdoc's unconscious form. "But you were right. This maniac shouldn't be loose and running. I just wish you didn't have put yourself on the line like that."

Mac contemplates on that for a bit, and attempts to sit up. "All's well that ends well." The full body quiver that follows speaks for his exertion.

"You call _that_ well?" Mac's shirt has rode up, revealing a dark, angry bruise. Jack gently reaches for the hem and stops - requesting wordless permission. Mac has gone completely still, posture unsure, but nods in consent.

Underneath the shirt, Mac's skin is extensively marred, and flecks of gold dance on its surface.

Wounded by magic.

Jack swallows down his fury, and tenderly lays his hand on Mac's torso, like the simple act of a touch would undo all his suffering - past, present, and future, if it were up to Jack. After all, stranger things have happened, than how fiercely he wants protect this boy from misery.

As if this touch was all that kept Mac together, he sags down to rest on Jack's shoulder, and lets the day's hurt erupt from his chest in violent sobs. It's a rare display of unfiltered vulnerability from his partner, and Jack holds him like the rare, invaluable treasure he is.

Jack is near tears himself. "It's okay, kid. Let it out. It's over, and we're going home."


End file.
